A Toast
by Frisco
Summary: Episode tag for Aurora. A quiet moment of reflection for everyone as they honor the crew of the Aurora. Written for the Aurora Challenge on the sheps atlantis community.


'_To the crew of the Aurora.'_

The glasses clinked as the group raised a toast to the men and women that had died that day. They stood lost in their own thoughts as they paid tribute with a moment of silence.

Teyla paused before taking a drink as her eyes lost focus and drifted. The Ancestors had not been what she had expected. After a lifetime of stories, she had seen them, actually seen real Ancestors. Athosian lore had built them to almost godlike status, but they were just people. Living, breathing human beings that had longed for home.

Teyla felt her universe shift. Since meeting John Sheppard and the Lanteans, she had discovered that very little of what she thought to be true actually was. The Wraith could be fought; the Genii were not what they seemed; friends could quickly become enemies; and those you trusted could betray you before you realized it. _Ronon…_. She had forgiven him; she had. But the knowledge that she had been so easily deceived did not sit well with her. She took a sip of her drink, feeling the bubbles tickle her nose. _What else would she learn the hard way?_

Ronon took a gulp as he mentally saluted the Ancestors aboard the Aurora. They had died well, taking two Wraith cruisers with them. The captain must have been a brave man to sacrifice so decisively. The stories he had heard since coming to Atlantis about the Ancestors, or Ancients as the Lanteans called them, had disturbed him. Satedans weren't involved in Ancestor worship, but they had a healthy respect of the ones that had come before. However, everything he had heard so far had caused him to question that respect.

They were obviously brilliant since they had created the Rings of the Ancestors, the Stargates. But they didn't seem to have much regard for human life, choosing to abandon the humans in Pegasus to the hands of the Wraith when the war got to be too much. Distaste flooded Ronon's mouth. _Cowards._ Or so he had thought. But the captain had faced his death like a warrior. And a lot of Wraith died. Ronon smiled inwardly at the thought. He had also gotten the opportunity to apologize _again_ to Teyla for abusing her friendship at Belka. This time he had seen true forgiveness in her eyes. He finished his drink in another gulp. _At least the day hadn't been completely wasted._

Weir took a small sip, keeping her eyes downcast. She had almost lost this team again. _How did they manage to constantly get in so much trouble?_ Only Sheppard's team could go to check a drifting Ancient ship and end up in a shoot-out with a Wraith, a scout ship and two cruisers. They had come away from this one without a scratch, but that luck wouldn't hold especially for a team that wasn't cohesive. A quick glance up confirmed her suspicions. Ronon and Teyla had smoothed things over, though something was clearly bothering the Athosian woman. But John and Rodney…. The tension was still there. And now Caldwell seemed a bit off. He was never going to be a close friend, but he seemed different somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. _Maybe they could have a chat on one of his future visits._

Rodney downed the champagne in one gulp, trying to not let his anger show. He didn't know what else to do to prove himself to Sheppard. He had been trying so hard. He had thought things were getting back to normal; the pilot was even back to insulting him in that cocky, snide way of his. But then, today….

'_What's the matter, Colonel? Don't trust me?'_

'_No.'_

The memory made McKay wince even now, the denial of trust cutting deeper than he would ever admit. In the past, the physicist wouldn't have cared if he lost favor with someone, but everything had changed in Atlantis. _He_ had changed in Atlantis. He admired, respected, cared about these people, and what these people thought of him, although he didn't show it much. That gave others too much power over him. But there were exceptions, and Sheppard was one of them.

The unusual Air Force pilot had befriended him. _How crazy was that?_ He had asked McKay to be on his team and seemed to enjoy the constant bantering that drove most people insane. The colonel was typically as gung ho as the scientist about exploration and discovery and actually had enough brain power to keep up, well, most of the time anyway. But ever since Doranda, life had been…wrong. At least Sheppard hadn't died from the retrovirus, and McKay had been given another chance to show himself trustworthy.

On the ship, Rodney had kept his eyes glued to the tablet, monitoring Sheppard in the stasis pod. He had refused to let him down. When he had rewritten the system to allow the pilot to escape, he could see the approval in the colonel's eyes. But it had quickly diminished as Sheppard discovered Rodney had forgotten to mention the Wraith ships coming. _Dammit! When was he going to learn?_

Sheppard made the toast and took a deep breath before drinking. It had been hard watching those people die today. He had genuinely liked the captain; he had commanded respect while caring deeply for his crew. The man had unflinchingly given John the self-destruct codes, effectively sentencing the crew of the Aurora to death. One thousand two hundred and seventy-one individuals. John wondered briefly how long they could have lived in their virtual environment. Would there have been a way to preserve them somehow if they had just had more time? _Damn Wraith._

Loss of life was a reality in war. He had seen a lot of death since coming to Atlantis. Hell, he'd seen a lot before coming. Afghanistan, Persian Gulf, Bosnia, a few other places still too classified to mention. It hadn't gotten any easier, and for that he was grateful. He'd seen too many soldiers lose their humanity in their efforts to defend it. So he had stood on the bridge of the Daedalus and watched the Aurora's sacrifice. He had agreed to raise a glass in honor of the crew upon his return to Atlantis, their home, _his_ home. It had hurt to watch them die, and he was thankful for the pain. The thought of not feeling it was what kept him awake at night. _What would happen to him then?_

Caldwell stared helplessly out of his own eyes from the prison of his body as the goa'uld took the glass, staring at the liquid before taking a tiny sip. _Couldn't anybody see the difference?_ Steven screamed and screamed, but no sound came out. He tried dropping the glass or spilling the beverage. His body just wouldn't obey him.

The faces around him looked at him but didn't see him. He couldn't really blame them though. He had been antagonistic since the day he had stepped foot on Atlantis, undermining Sheppard at every turn. His last visit, as the pilot lay dying from the retrovirus, had almost been his undoing. He hadn't really meant to provoke Weir or intimate that the lieutenant colonel wasn't returning. Caldwell had seen opportunity for improvement and jumped in with both feet. Sensitivity for the feelings of others wasn't highly valued in the military.

But Weir had taken it personally as had Sheppard's team. And now he was being manipulated into doing things against his will, and no one could tell it wasn't really him. _God, when was this going to end?_

Ziloth laughed to himself as he pushed down the human's pitiful attempts to warn the others. His brothers at The Trust had been right. These Wraith were a threat. They could be defeated, but not easily, and after the battle with the Tau'ri and the new Ori incursion, resources just weren't available. He had been given instructions on what to do if the danger was real. He had already made a copy of the city's operating system to take back. He would reinstall it once the reprogramming was complete. He rejoiced in the thought of the destruction of Atlantis as he carefully set the glass down and looked at the hated humans. _Too bad death would be instantaneous._

The End.


End file.
